For the Greater Good
by KaramelleTashiPops
Summary: Gellert made concessions for the greater good, so did Tom. Albus makes some concessions of his own
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, it belongs to JKR

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Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blond and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

It was for these reasons exactly that they were the perfect family to take charge of their very young, recently orphaned nephew, Harry. Or they would have been, except that they did not want him.

You see, Mrs. Petunia Dursley, née Evans, had not particularly liked her sister. Mrs. Petunia Dursley was perfectly normal, and Lily had certainly not been. This in itself would not have been a problem, if Mr. and Mrs. Evans didn't delight in the oddball nature of their younger daughter. Petunia was hurt, especially when no one would entertain her thoughts that her sister was down a bad road, and took her sister going to boarding school was a blessing, allowing them to drift apart naturally and ensuring her sister was in her proper place in Petunia's neat and ordered world.

Mr. Vernon Dursley was less accepting than his wife. He had not formed a good impression of Lily on the rare occasions they had met, and as Petunia assured him that Lily's husband was positively unruly, he was happier not thinking about them. However, Vernon prided himself on the ability to reach conclusions quickly, and two nutters who married very young and had a son suspiciously quickly, lived an isolated life with no employment to speak of and yet were apparently quite busy and fairly well off… well, let us say Vernon could see a number of future hospital visits and developmental issues for the child, and Petunia was all too happy to agree.

Imagine then, their surprise when Petunia received a letter from her sister asking that if anything happened to her, they would take the boy. Vernon surmised they had become involved in a gang or some such. Petunia could only think her own son and the opportunities he would miss if they took charge of such a child.

And so they had decided before Vernon left for work that morning that if the child were ever in need of care, it should be left to the professionals.

Dumbledore was interrupted in his morning routine by a soft pop from his office. He made his way in and greeted the house elf prostrate on his rug. "Do you have news for me?" He could not remember who this elf had been sent to gather intelligence from, as they all looked fairly alike and tended to organise themselves in shifts. The elf nodded and raised itself to its full, though unimpressive, height. "The muggles will not take the Potter child. They have decided to only care for their own child." Dumbledore leaned forward and steepled his hands on the desk in front of him. "Very well, thank you. Please cease surveillance." The elf bowed and disappeared.

Dumbledore had not realised that Lily had already asked her sister to take her son. While family would no doubt be safer than some others, the muggle world would not be a good hiding place if Voldemort came to ultimate power. No matter, he could always organise alternatives if the time came. In any case, he saw no reason that his fidelius charm would fail. Frank and Alice were far more likely and had volunteered to keep working through the crisis. If the prophesy were to come to pass, he did not believe it would be Harry in danger.

He went about his preparations for the day, checking the reports from Filch and the previous night's teacher patrols. He was just beginning to refill the various sweet jars he had secreted around his quarters when another pop interrupted him. In a single look, Dumbledore took in the haggard and distraught appearance of junior auror and newly acquired Order of the Phoenix member Kingsley Shacklebolt and decided a tragedy had occurred. He summoned enough lemon drops to refill the small bowl on his desk and gestured for the man to sit.

Kingsley shook his head, obviously impatient to relay his news. Dumbledore nodded and sat himself. "What has happened, Kingsley?"

"It's the Longbottoms sir; we found them early this morning. This was the soonest I could get away. They've been hurt sir; they're in St Mungo's. Madam Longbottom has asked for you to see them."

Dumbledore nodded, and asked the portraits in his office to advise the professors of his sudden and temporary departure. He then turned on the spot and strode through the apparition room of St Mungo's hospital toward the reception. Immediately he was joined by a young mediwitch who advised him that he was looking for the intensive care ward on the fourth floor before hurrying off to oversee incoming patients. Dumbledore made his way quickly to the specified ward, knowing Frank and Alice may not have long to wait.

He was greeted at the door to the ward by Augusta Longbottom, looking older and more tired than he had ever seen her. "Dumbledore," she choked out, her eyes and voice full of grief and anger. "Please, tell me you can do something for my children." Dumbledore took her hand. "Show me what is wrong; I will do what I can." Augusta nodded and led him into the ward. She hesitated at a drawn set of curtains before pulling them aside slightly to allow Dumbledore entry. He did not miss the fact that they were pulled hastily back into place, nor that Augusta didn't follow him inside. What he saw before him was shocking.

He had expected blood, curse residue, the smell of burnt flesh and exposed innards. He saw none of that. Instead, he could hardly reconcile the people in front of him with the bright, confident young aurors he knew the couple to be. Frank could easily be mistaken for comatose if his eyes had not been open, and Alice was shrieking and kicking. They were held against the frames of their beds by magical restraints, the purpose of which was made clear by the impossibly large bubble of snot from Frank's nose and the sparks emitted from Alice's mouth as she struggled. He reached out to Frank to feel out the damage left by the curse.

"I'd rather you didn't do that just yet." A mediwizard interrupted, entering the enclosed area. "We have evidence that this is due to prolonged exposure to the cruciatus curse, you will need mental shields up before going anywhere near them. In any case, I have to try the standard measures first and then both you and Madam Longbottom will need to sign a waiver." Albus stepped back. "Of course."

The mediwizard performed a number of charms on the pair that Albus recognised as being designed for sleep, nerve repair and improved nutrient absorption. He then placed them in a body bind and set up monitoring spells for vitals and intracranial pressure.

The mediwizard turned to Albus. "Sir, if you would bring Madam Longbottom through?" Albus nodded and the mediwizard turned back to his spells, scribbling notes on a chart. Albus left the curtained enclosure and approached Augusta. She was staring out into the hall, eyes clouded. Albus touched her on the shoulder and she drew in a sharp breath. "The mediwizard would like to see you, my dear." Augusta nodded, her lips set in a grim line, and they made their way back toward the incapacitated aurors.

They had hardly made it through the curtains before the mediwizard began talking to Augusta about a sort of a sugar test to see if the younger Longbottoms' brains were awake. Albus thoroughly approved of this method, as he found offering sweets to be a wonderful way to gauge behaviour and imagined this must be much the same internally. He nodded his approval when Augusta looked to him, and resolved to learn as much as he could about this method.

To Albus' disappointment, the sugar test was not likely to be helpful to him. The mediwizard spelled a sugary solution into each of the Longbottoms and performed a complicated spell to detect the sugar in the brain. After about an hour of looking at small patches of glowing charm, the mediwizard concluded that both aurors had suffered extensive brain damage and they would be looking at a long recovery process. His official recommendation was to keep them in magical sleep for two weeks to allow them to heal before reassessing and treating further. Albus agreed with him and Augusta was eventually convinced to go home and rest herself, knowing her children were in capable hands.

Albus apparated back to his office and summoned a house elf to bring him tea. The Longbottom boy was unmarked and his parents out of action. That made the possibility of him being the one to fulfill the prophecy less likely. It was time to start making new plans.

The sixth of August dawned bright and hot. Mrs. Dursley chattered happily at her husband and son while she fed them and saw Mr. Dursley off to work. Then she took her son outside to do some gardening before the light rain expected around lunchtime. Pruning done, she stopped him from eating next door's roses and put him down for a nap.

She was in the middle of a good gossip when the house suddenly went dark. She went to the windows and saw that the sky was covered in cloud and the streetlamps had come on. She turned on the lights and went back to chatting with her friend. A few minutes later, the storm burst. Rain fell hard on the roof and Petunia's phone line was unusable. Luckily, her Dudders didn't scream to let her know he was awake. She rushed around checking the windows and closing the curtains, and then set herself to making lunch. Having eaten her food, cooled some soft veges and cut up some sausages for her baby boy; she popped upstairs to get him from his cot. He wasn't there. He had escaped before though, tricky boy, and could usually be found in the spare room. He wasn't there either. She checked the whole house, no sign of him. By now the rain was flooding the street, but she checked the front lawn and back thoroughly. No sign of her precious Dudley.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, water levels rising dangerously for a residential street. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed overhead, occasionally snaking down to touch a house. A wizard deposited his stunned and immobilised charge in a particularly impressive puddle. Task complete, he cancelled his spells and spun on his heel. His departure was mistaken for just another strike of lightning in a record storm.

Vernon arrived home later than usual, due to the extra traffic created by a convoy of emergency vehicles and displaced homeowners. He was surprised by the amount of damage he saw on the way, but confident that their home would be alright. Goodness knew he paid enough to keep it up to the highest code, even trusting an Irishman's perspective on rain-proofing. He was much perturbed then, to see policemen and an ambulance in front of number four. He parked up the street as his own driveway was blocked, and made his way to his front door. A policeman stopped him before he could step onto the lawn, but let him pass with a funny look when Vernon explained that he lived there.

Thoroughly disquieted, he wiped his shoes on the doormat and bustled into the living room. His wife sat on the couch, head in her hands and sobbing. He hastened to her side and sat next to her, legs touching, waiting for her to calm enough to tell him what had happened. After a few minutes he became aware that something was missing, and went to check on Dudley. The boy wasn't in his room. Neither had he been in the living room with Petunia. And for that matter, why were there policemen outside?

Vernon roared and charged out to door toward a policeman who appeared to be in charge. "WHERE IS MY SON?" He demanded. The policeman gestured for him to follow and walked toward the ambulance. Vernon caught sight of a small figure draped on a stretcher. He stopped, blood draining from his face. The policeman he had been following stopped too, and turned to him. "Mr. Dursley, I'm afraid there was an accident. Your son wandered outside during the storm and…" "NO!" The policeman stopped, affronted. "I'm terribly sorry, but-" His voice was cut off as Vernon swung and caught him in the face with. "MY SON ISN'T DEAD!" Vernon dropped to his knees. "He can't be dead."

Dumbledore chuckled softly at the reports he was getting from Arabella Figg. The muggles were devastated. If it came to pass that they were needed, he was certain they would be far more receptive now. And if not, the family were practically a poster for anti-muggle sentiment, the loss of one hardly meant a thing in terms of the greater good.

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Author's note: the following is an extract from The Independent regarding August 6th, 1981 in Surrey: "The cumulonimbus clouds that bring thunderstorms can reach a height of 16 kilometres (almost 10 miles). If they are one of the thicker variety (sic) they can block out most, and occasionally all, of the sun's light. On 6 August 1981, one that was eight miles high filled the sky over east Surrey and transformed a summer's day into pitch-black darkness. Street lights came on automatically, and, when the storm burst, there were extensive floods with 16 buildings struck by lightning. This degree of darkness in the middle of the day is very rare, but not unprecedented…" This seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own even the tiniest piece of Harry Potter or the world in which he lives. I do own the particular sequence of words herein, so if you want to use them please ask.

Once I have a few chapters I will make this a podfic but right now am not looking at doing it. If anyone would like to help me read through these to check for mistakes before they are posted, please let me know :)

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Harry woke with a start from a dream about flying motorcycles. Someone was tapping at his door. "Come in." He called, putting on his glasses. His mum nudged her way into the room, carrying a tray. His dad followed closely behind, carrying a large wrapped box. "Happy birthday Harry!" They smiled. His mum put the tray on his bedside table, loaded with plates of breakfast and mugs of tea. Harry scooted upright so they could both sit, beaming at them. "Good morning!"

His dad placed the box on the bed in front of him. He stepped back, smoothing his large mustache like he always did when he was nervous. "I know we usually get you a few presents, but this is a bit bigger than normal, and, well, we'll make it up to you today. Go on, open it."

Harry smiled at his dad and tore open the paper. Inside was an IBM computer. His jaw dropped open and he looked at his dad with wide eyes. "You're not making fun of me, are you dad?" His dad shuffled a bit, and his mum piped up "No Harrykins, we thought you might like one of your own." Harry scrambled off the bed and hugged his dad fiercely, before turning and launching himself at his mum on the bed. "It must have cost you guys a bag or two, I can't believe this!"

His mum sniffed and tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Put it down for a minute and we'll eat breakfast, you can set it up later." "Okay mum." Harry picked up the box with some effort and placed it on the ground by his bed. He then sat back down and handed around plates before tucking in. "This is great mum, thanks." He was done in record time and immediately pounced on the box by his bed. His dad chortled into his mug of tea as Harry unpacked everything and started moving it to his desk. "I suppose I shouldn't have been worried whether you would like it. What would you like to do today?"

"Could we go to the zoo?" Harry asked, looking up from the manual he was reading. "Of course we can, my boy." Vernon chuckled. "11 years old and still wants to see the animals." "Don't listen to him, Harry dear." Petunia said. "He likes the zoo just as much, he gets to visit his gorilla cousins."

"Oi," Vernon laughed. "You can talk, Ms. Giraffe neck!" Harry rolled his eyes as his parents collapsed in a heap on his bed, laughing at each other. Honestly, sometimes he felt like the adult in the house.

The zoo was just as exciting as always. They all got ice-creams at the entrance and wandered around enjoying the cool treats and looking at the animals. Once they finished, they headed into the cooler rooms of the reptile house.

Almost immediately, Harry caught sight of a blond boy tapping on the glass of one of the enclosures. He walked over. "Stop that, Piers," he said. "It upsets the animals, and you don't want an angry snake on your hands." Piers sneered and turned to him. "What are you going to do about it, Dursley?" Harry turned away to find a zookeeper, and Piers shoved him into the glass. But suddenly, the glass wasn't there! Harry fell with a thud into the enclosure, his glasses tumbling into his lap. He picked them up and placed them back on the bridge of his nose just in time to catch the advance of the enclosure's inhabitant: a large, brown snake. Harry pushed himself back and tried to get to his feet. "S-stop!" He shouted, using the bar to pull himself upright. He turned, and saw that the snake had stopped and was looking at him oddly. "Go- go away?" Harry stammered, unsure what the result would be. The snake turned and made its way further back into the enclosure.

Harry clambered over the bar and out of the enclosure. Piers was standing there, looking like he had seen a ghost. His parents were there too, his mum reaching out to him but looking just as horrified as Piers. His dad was pale behind his mustache as they hurried back to the car. The ride home was silent once Harry accepted that his questions about what was wrong would go unanswered.

Once safely in the house and dry, Harry's parents sat him down in the lounge with a cup of tea, looking like they had something difficult to say. "Harry," his mum started. "You have to know that we love you, and we always will." Harry nodded, nervous. "Harry, darling, we had hoped this would never happen, but, you seem to have magic." Harry laughed nervously. "Magic?" He asked. "Where would I have gotten magic?"

His dad cleared his throat. "Er, from your parents." "My parents?" Harry asked. "But you're my parents." His mum patted his knee. "We'll always be your mum and dad sweetie, but we're your aunt and uncle. Your mother was my sister. She and her husband died when you were very little. They had magic too." Harry stood up, slopping tea on himself, and walked into the kitchen. His dad followed. "We had a little boy who was about the same age. They died so close together and we thought-"

Harry exploded. "You thought what? That you could keep this from me? That you could lie to me and pretend to love me? I saw how you reacted today. You hate magic, don't you? You must hate me too, now."

His mum tried to hug him but Harry pushed past him and raced to his room. He threw himself down on his bed and tried not to cry. He had always wondered why he looked different to his parents, why he wasn't blond. But he had always figured it was one of those things, like brown haired parents having blond kids. When his parents looked at him, did they see him, or his dead cousin? And this magic, too. He didn't want it. He saw the way Piers and his parents looked at him when he did that magic by accident before. He didn't want to be a freak. He would learn to control it and hide it away. He moved to his desk and stared at a pencil, willing it to move. Nothing happened. He kept trying, trying to feel his magic, to know the enemy.

Harry jerked awake and checked his watch. 2am. He still hadn't managed to move the pencil. He wondered, how had he done magic before? He had been afraid of hitting the glass, of being attacked by the snake. He could remember a hated teacher at school suddenly sporting blue hair, and a game of hide and seek where he found himself on the roof of the school. He supposed then that his magic only came out in the face of strong emotion. He would have to learn to control his emotions if he wanted his magic to stay hidden.

With this resolution made, he went to sleep.

His dad had already gone to work by the time he went downstairs the next morning, and his mum was in the garden. Harry made himself a cup of tea and went out to her. "Mum," he called. "Do you want a cup of tea?" Petunia looked up from her gardening, then took off her gloves and stood up. "That would be lovely; I'll be in in a minute."

Harry made her a cup of tea and sat down in the lounge to wait. After a few minutes his mum came in and sat on one of the chairs, sipping her tea. He put down his half-finished cup and looked at her. "Mum," He started, hesitantly. "I've decided that I'm not going to be magic anymore." His mum looked at him, surprised. "Don't say anything." He spoke in a rush. "I saw the way you and Dad looked at me when I did magic. I didn't ask to be this way and I don't want to be. I think I've figured out how to control it and it will take time but I know I can do it." He breathed out, glad to have said what he needed to. His mum looked at him in shock and put her tea down on the coffee table. She stood and Harry thought she was going to leave the room without saying a word. Instead she pulled him into a rare hug. Normally he would be the one to initiate contact and he always felt that his parents were less than comfortable with it. Now he realised that was probably because they were afraid of his magic and what he might do accidentally. It stung, but made his resolution to control his magic that much stronger.

"My baby, I am so proud of you. This is a difficult choice to make and I don't know what I would have done if you had gone away to that awful magical school like my sister and come back freakish like her." She pulled away and Harry realised his mum had been crying as she held him. "I must call Vernon and tell him the good news." Harry watched her walk toward the wall phone and dial his dad's office number. He was glad he had decided to suppress his magic, his parents were obviously terrified of losing another son.

A week after Harry first learned about his magic, a letter arrived on thick parchment, addressed in green ink to Mr. H. Potter, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Harry scoffed, they couldn't even get his name right. He turned it over and saw that the send address was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He scoffed again and tossed the letter into the garbage. Figures that wizards wouldn't check the facts before sending it out, he supposed his name must have been Potter before he came to live with his parents. Not only did they not seem to have checked his records before sending him letters, but he would have thought that at least someone would come to explain about magic before asking him to leave his family. Well, they could very well get along without him.

He was due to start at Smeltings, and carry the Dursley name into the annals of the school with pride. His training was coming along very nicely, and while he didn't quite trust himself to test it in real situations just yet he was sure he would be ready by the time school started. His parents were hesitant to enter his room while he practiced his control and he didn't blame them. He had broken a lamp the first day and left a dent in the wall with his shoe the second. After that he moved all fragile objects to the spare room and secured anything dangerous. Today however, he felt ready to start moving things back in. If he proved to himself that the thought of neither Piers Polkiss and his stupid taunts nor burning to death could break his control, he felt he would be ready to test his skills in the real world.

Two hours later, a flushed and happy Harry Dursley entered the lounge. His mum looked up from icing a cake and seemed concerned. She bustled over and put a cool hand on his forehead. "Are you feeling alright dear? You're very red."

Harry smiled at her. "I'm more than alright mum. I think I've learned to control my magic." Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it." He said, and walked to see who had come to visit. He assumed by the cake that it was one of his mum's friends over for a good gossip. He opened the door and was surprised to see a tall woman in a severe tweed suit and a tight bun. "Hello." She stated. "I am looking for a Mr. Harry Potter."

Harry shut the door in her face. She must be a witch, nobody called him Potter until he received that letter. He walked quickly back to the kitchen, flush fading fast from his face. "Who was that?" His mum asked, not looking up from her cake. When he didn't respond she looked up and saw his pallor. "It's one of them isn't it?" Harry nodded. His mum put down her piping bag, brushed her hands on her apron and set it on the bench. She bustled down the hallway and opened the door to a somewhat bemused and matronly figure.

"You must be Mrs. Dursley. May I come in?" She asked, though it was obvious that she did not expect to be denied entry. Petunia sniffed. "You may not." She said frostily. The older woman balked and tried again. "I am looking for Harry Potter. I represent a school for-" "I know very well who you represent." Petunia bit out. "Freaks, the lot of you. There is no Harry Potter here. Only Harry Dursley, who will not be going anywhere with the likes of you." And with that she closed the door in the face of a very flustered McGonagall. The woman stalked away, muttering things about "the worst kind of muggles" under her breath.

Petunia entered the kitchen with her lips pressed into a firm line and hard eyes. "Harry" She said, steel in her voice. "Get packed. We're going away."

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Second chapter up! I am a bad, bad author. I took way too long on this chapter because happy is too hard to write. Dark!Dumbles writes himself however, so after the Christmas break the new chapter should hopefully be up soon. A posting schedule of once a month seems to be a good way to make sure I write but don't fall behind.

Let me know if this is far too difficult for you, because I can always post in 'snippet' amounts on AO3 if you are willing to accept irregular posting and irregular lengths (e.g 70% of this was done in 1 day (today) and the rest dripped in in paragraphs - too annoying for me to read, maybe less for you).

Also, be prepared for a long haul my friends, because I plan on doing at least until book 4, but hopefully book 7 and beyond.


	3. Chapter 3

New Chapter! And comparatively quickly too. Downside is that it's a little shorter than the last couple. Also a teensy reminder here that I like reviews ^.^.

Disclaimer - JKR owns Harry potter, I do not. I make no money off this fic, but I do take a great deal of personal enjoyment.

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Ocean spray spattered the walls of the ramshackle hut and thunder crashed, fighting with the sound of waves slapping the rock it stood on. Inside, Harry huddled further into the couch he was meant to be sleeping on, seeking any warmth from the moth-eaten and mildewy blanket he had found on the floor. He was frightened and wanted nothing more than to go home. He and his parents had been on the run for almost two weeks. They had just left the house at first, staying in a London Hotel, but wizards kept popping up wherever they went. They had been polite in the beginning, asking to speak to him, offering him ridiculous wonders and a happier life. He had turned them all away, letting them know in no uncertain terms that he was perfectly happy where he was. Then they had become more insistent, and less polite.

Harry had told his parents, and they had driven out of the city. Vernon had turned his work over to an assistant director for a few weeks, citing a late summer holiday. The wizards had followed relentlessly, cornering him at petrol stations and cafes. Each time Harry had told them that he wasn't interested, and he and his parents moved on. Finally they had started trying to grab him. Harry was too ashamed to admit that he had used his magic to get away a few times, not seeing any other way out. On these occasions his dad had accepted his explanations as to how he managed to shake the wizards off on his own, but his mum looked at him a little too knowingly. Using his freakishness made Harry sick to his stomach, but he couldn't always escape without it. At least the wizards had seemed to leave him alone once they hit Cornwall.

The manager at the hotel they had stayed at the night before had looked at him a bit funny over his cornflakes this morning, but that could have been any number of things. And no one could get to him on this rock, not in this storm. Not even if they knew where he was. Not even if he thought he could hear boots crunching on the rock outside.

CRASH! The door fell in and Harry jumped, startled from his thoughts. He heard his dad fall to the floor from the bed in the other room. A huge shape blocked the doorway. Harry scrambled behind the couch, desperate to get to shelter. The shape moved forward, and as it became clearer Harry realised it was the largest and hairiest man he had ever seen. The wizards had run out of patience. The gigantic man squeezed his way through the opening and fit the door back into the frame behind him. His eyes glinted as they fell on Harry, whose stomach dropped. His insides ice, he tried to run to the small bedroom, stumbling on numb feet.

His dad rushed out of the hut's only other room, holding a shotgun he must have bought on this trip. Harry ducked behind him as Vernon pointed the gun at the intruder.

"Don't come any closer!" He yelled, hands shaking. "I'll shoot!"

The giant gave a short laugh like the rev of an engine and reached for the gun. Harry's dad tried valiantly to keep the gun aimed at the other man's chest, but the giant bent the barrel backwards. Vernon shook wildly, knowing that if he tried to shoot now, the gun might very well explode and harm them all. Instead he turned on the safety and held the gun like a club, stepping further in front of his wife and son. "You won't take him," he said, trying to sound firm and dangerous. In reality it came out quavering and squeaky. "I won't let you."

"And what would you do about it, Dursley, you great prune?" The giant scoffed, seemingly not fazed by guns or heavy wood and metal clubs. "The boy is coming to Hogwarts, whether you allow it or not."

"I am not going anywhere with you." Harry said, as coldly as he could from behind his father's legs. "I will not go to a school of freaks, I will not be taught magic tricks by the biggest freak of them all." Petunia sneered beside him, and added "Crackpot old fool couldn't even get his name right on the letter."

What little they could see of the giant's face flushed a deep red, and he flung Vernon aside with a hand like a shovel. "NEVER," he thundered, "INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE IN- FRONT- OF- ME!" He brought a pink umbrella swishing down and Petunia crumpled. Harry tried to run past him and out onto the island but he was somehow wrapped in rope before he could get far. He struggled and tried to look back at his parents, but couldn't see them from where he was. He calmed down and tried to use his magic on the ropes, but they just tightened around him, cutting off circulation to his fingers. Suddenly, his world went black.

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Harry opened his eyes and fumbled for his glasses, finding they had fallen onto his chest. Putting them on he realised he had been sleeping on a couch in a warm office. Odd, as he'd never been here before and couldn't remember how he got here from the hut in Cornwall. Strange delicate objects whirred in glass cases around him. As his mind cleared he remembered being kidnapped and began to panic. In his hast to find an exit, he fell from the couch and bruised a knee. There were no windows but he could see two doors. He tried the first and found it locked. He ran to the other and pulled on it. It opened easily and revealed an elderly man in robes and a beard that fell to his knees. Harry hesitated before pushing past the man, only to find himself in a parlour of sorts. His shoulders slumped. There was a window in this room, showing that they were high above the ground. Too high up to jump, even if he used his magic to protect him. From behind him he heard the old man chuckle and the sound filled him with dread. "How very Gryffindor of you Harry, I knew that would be the right choice for you."

Harry drew in a deep breath and turned to face the man, who he supposed must be another Wizard. He hadn't seen the large one who had kidnapped him yet; perhaps he could trick this one into letting him go. He just had to play along for now. "Gryffindor?" He asked. "What's that?"

"Gryffindor is a house Harry, one of the four that make up Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Headmaster Dumbledore." Harry chanced a look at the man's face while he was talking. He had a kindly face with very blue eyes that were twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. Harry might have been inclined to trust him if he weren't a freak and a kidnapper. "I have taken the liberty of placing you in Gryffindor myself, since you missed the Sorting yesterday. It seems I made the right choice,"

"I don't need a house." Harry said, a bit miffed to learn this was all about where he went to school. "I don't have magic, I won't be learning here." Dumbledore chuckled again, and withdrew a long thin stick from his robes. "We shall see." He said, and pointed the stick at Harry. Pain suddenly clawed at every part of Harry's body and he felt his magic rising to the surface. He tried to clamp it down, but the pain made it impossible to concentrate. He fell to the floor as his magic was let loose with force, breaking several of the delicate objects he had noted earlier. The pain dulled to a fierce ache and he heard the old man say, rather smugly. "There. No matter how deeply you bury your magic, you cannot make it go away. You will attend this school and you will learn how to use it."

"You can't make me do anything." Harry said, shakily. He knew it wasn't the greatest of ideas but the pain was making it difficult to concentrate and all he could think of was having to spend his year around freaks. He needed to get back to his parents, to make sure they were okay. He pushed himself off the floor, and noticed that the old man was smiling at him. The smile no longer reached those blue eyes.

"On the contrary, my dear boy, I can make you do anything I need you to." Dumbledore said, patronisingly. "We have purchased all you need for the year, at significant expense. There is a prophecy that links you to the eventual demise of the Dark Lord. Magically, you have no proper guardians, so you are under the guardianship of this school. It is your destiny and your obligation to learn all you can while you are here."

Harry saw red. How dare the man tell him what he had to do? "I have parents, and I refuse to fight your battles for you. Let me go!" He lunged and tried to grab the man's wand to unlock the door, but found himself thrown back before he even managed to brush the man's arm. On the floor for the third time since he had woken up, he observed that the smile had now completely vanished from Dumbledore's face. "You will learn," The man said, quietly and dangerously. "Even if I have to make it so myself. Imperio!"


End file.
